


A Practice in Patience

by orayofsunshine



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reuniting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-02-01 00:01:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12692871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orayofsunshine/pseuds/orayofsunshine
Summary: He had been in Winterfell for weeks and had not seen even a glimpse of Arya. But he heard the rumors and whispers about her, that she was cold as steel and silent as the wind. Hearing this, Gendry knew that he could have looked all over the castle for her, but unless she wanted to be found, he had no hope of finding her. So, he waited.---------Gendry arrives in Winterfell from the Wall, and waits patiently for his chance to see Arya again.





	A Practice in Patience

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first fan fiction (or writing of any kind) since the beginning of this year, so I apologize if I'm a little rusty. But anyway, this is my take on what happens when Gendry and Arya see each other again. I know a lot of people think she would beat the stuffing out of him, but I imagine things going a little different. I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you enjoy!

When the small party of men finally reached Winterfell after the damned mission beyond the wall, Gendry only had the energy to bow to Sansa, who had greeted them at the gate, before stowing away to the room he had been given to sleep for days. He dreamed fitfully of the younger Stark sister, her short choppy hair and quick wit that had enthralled him when they were younger. He had heard that she was alive from the Hound, when he bitterly chuckled about the “wolf bitch that left him for dead”. From the moment he knew she was alive, he had thought extensively about what he would say to Arya when he saw her again. Truthfully, he had drafted many different declarations and apologies to her ever since he had seen her last, but in the exhausted state he was in he could barely string together three words at a time, much less coherently tell her everything he wanted to say. So he slept, and he waited. 

Once he had gained his strength back he approached Sansa, swearing his allegiance to their fight against the Night King and offering his blacksmith skills to the cause. She had smiled politely, ever the diplomat that Jon was not, and thanked him. She allowed him the forge to work, and he began working in earnest. Day and night he was in the forge, pounding away at swords and armor for the inevitable war. From what Bran had seen, the army of the undead grew closer and closer to the Wall with every hour that passed, and while very few people knew of it, Gendry had been told that the Night King had one of Daenery’s dragons, which only made their predicament worse. So he worked harder, crafting as many dragonglass daggers as he could, until his hands cramped so bad he could barely move them. He never saw Arya in all of this, and he was not surprised. He had heard whispers of what had become of her. Of course it was only gossip, no one really knew for sure, but what he heard Gendry held on to. The mental picture he had gathered of her would have to suffice until she decided to make herself seen. She was as sharp and as cold as steel, as quick and quiet as the wind. When he heard this, Gendry knew that he could have looked all over the castle for her, but unless she wanted to be found, he had no hope of finding her. So he worked, and he waited. 

Nearly a full month had passed since he had arrived in Winterfell. Jon and Daenerys arrived from King’s Landing, immediately stealing away into the Great Hall for war meetings with the council they had chosen, which Gendry found himself on. It was there that he saw Arya for the first time since his arrival. She sat straight as a pin in her chair, her shoulders back and her hands clasped in front of her on the table. She was cool and stoic and incredibly beautiful and carried herself with pride like the highborn she was. She was no longer the lanky, grubby little girl he had met in King’s Landing so many years ago. While she had disguised herself as a boy then, now there was no denying that she was a woman. She was lithe and lean, with soft curves that did not escape Gendry’s eye. Her hair was longer too, tied back in a practical style more like Jon’s rather than the intricate braids Sansa or Daenery wore. He wanted to speak with her since the moment he walked into the hall, needed to more than he had needed anything else. Yet when her gray eyes fell on his, her face frustratingly unreadable, Gendry knew approaching her in front of everyone would likely end with him being gelded or maimed. He steely gaze made it clear that she was not ready to speak with him. He sighed, turning his attention back to what Jon was saying about strategies and plans. He was not going to speak with Arya anytime soon. So he listened, and he waited. 

The Night King’s army was nearly at their gates when Arya Stark slipped in the forge, quiet as a whisper. He had his back to the door and was hammering away at a dagger, trying to use every last scrap of dragonglass that he had been given, when he felt the cool gust of wind hit his back, and he stopped to glance over his shoulder at the intruder. He was shocked to see her standing there mere feet away from him, snow dusting her dark hair and clinging to her eyelashes. She was wrapped in a thick cloak and fur boots, shielding her from the cold that blew outside. The forge was stifling though, and Arya shed her cloak, revealing simple breeches and a tunic tied at her slender waist. Gendry inhaled slowly, heart hammering in his chest as he set down the hammer and sword, turning to face her completely. 

“You’re here.” She said, voice soft yet sure as she took a step towards him. “You’re alive.” 

“I am, so are you.” Gendrya responded, kicking himself for the dumb response. All of his carefully planned words had slipped away the second she walked in, leaving him very stuck for words. A hint of a smile ghosted her lips and she stepped closer, the fire casting light and shadows across her cheekbones. Her face was unreadable as she looked up into his eyes, and he was filled with nerves with the anticipation of what she would do next. 

He expected a punch or a slap, maybe a shove or a kick in the shin. She had always been rowdy when they were younger, ready to pick a fight with someone no matter what size they were. He had left her, and he knew his decision to stay with the brotherhood had hurt her, sometimes he still dreamt of the pain in her eyes when he had told her. 

He had thought at the time he was making the right decision, but had he known he would be sold off and Arya would go gods know where with gods know who, he would have thrown her over his shoulder and carried her as far away from the Brotherhood as he could. He had made a mistake, and if facing the wrath of Arya Stark with his punishment, he would take it willingly. 

Yet, no punch came. Nor slap nor shove nor kick. Instead, Arya surged forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest to hold him tight. 

“Hold me, Gendry.” She commanded after a moment of him standing there dumbly, his arms limp by his sides. He hesitantly did as she asked, wrapping his arms over her shoulder to encase her in his arms. She nuzzled closer to him, hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt as if he would slip away if she dared to let go. Gendry’s heart pounded in his chest as he settled into their embrace. It wasn’t proper for her to be there, alone with him. He knew if someone walked by or peered in the window and saw them in their position, people would talk. Gossip spread like wildfire around Winterfell, and it would not take long to get back to Sansa or Jon if someone caught them. Yet Gendry could not find it in him to let go of her, instead he closed his eyes and rested his cheek on top of her head, breathing in the earthy smell of her hair. 

“You’re not angry with me? For leaving?” He asked after a moment, breaking the quiet that had surrounded them. 

“I’m bloody livid, stupid.” She said, voice muffled by his shirt. “But I’ll kick your ass like you deserve later. For now, just don’t let go.” 

Gendry smiled against her head and held her a little tighter like she had asked. He knew she wasn’t going to go easy on him later, that she would put him to shame and kick his ass for leaving her, but in that moment he had Arya Stark in his arms again and she didn’t want that to change anytime soon, and neither did he.


End file.
